


Irrigating in the Desert

by karrenia_rune



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:49:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atlantis is a space station in the federation. Rodney is a ½ Vulcan. His mother was a Vulcan woman who died when he was young and his human father took him back to earth with him. Rodney was raised human and ends up as a science officer on Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irrigating in the Desert

The beautiful artwork created by danceswithgary can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/collections/journeystory/works/2799521

“Irrigating in the Desert” by Karrenia

Rodney had never been to Utopia Planita before but he had seen diagrams and video feeds of it as a boy in school and later on when he had gone on Starfleet Academy. But ever since he had been a very young boy he had been fascinated with ships, things that flew both under their own power as well as with the science behind them. 

His parents had seen the spark in him, and had not seen fit to attempt to either stifle or believe that it was nothing more than a passing fancy. There had been some concern that his was a nature more given over to the empirical and scientific inquiry that there might not enough room left over to have empathy or be able to interact with other people socially.

As a child he’d felt more and more that he gone into a kind of protective shell, not allowing anyone to get close to him and as he grew older it became his protection. That if he didn’t invest in taking the time and effort to grow emotionally attached to anyone in particular than he would not have to risk getting hurt or hurting anyone else.

Now, when it came to his sister, Jeanine she could seemed to be the exact opposite of her brother, charming, outgoing, smart, emotionally invested in everything and everyone; one of the smart, funny, popular kids when they were growing up. This is seemingly profound difference in their emotional make had decidedly caused a great deal of friction between them when they were growing up and that fracture in their relationship had even carried into their adult lives.

Speaking of friction, and not the kind that he’d studied in physics class, only a month ago his father had shocked him with the revelation shortly after his graduation from Starfleet Academy that he was not like the other children on the Federation colony of Manitoba Prime, that he was not fully human, that his mother who had died before he had had the chance to get to know her, had been Vulcan.  
Rodney McKay was still in the throes of processing, but at the moment he did not want to deal with it. How much of him was human, how much Vulcan, and what difference did it make in the grand scheme of things? 

Would he have to make any adjustments? Would he get into trouble with Starfleet once word of his dual heritage got out? It was simply too much to deal with at the moment.  
It was simply too much to process at the moment; instead he just wanted to soak in this moment for all it was worth. 

He rode along in the transport through huge sprawling chambers filled with ships of varying descriptions sizes; most with the familiar saucer-shaped section that were pretty much standard issue design in the Federation.

Among the noises of the construction going on all around him, it was unlikely in the extreme that anyone would hear him, so he settled for a muffled :Huzzah!” instead of a full-throated roar of unbridled enthusiasm that he wanted to give voice to. 

Somewhere in the midst of his meandering thoughts it occurred to him that his emotional response to his current experience was not very Vulcan penchant for emotional restraint, but Rodney did not care about any of that. 

The chance to get a personal on-site view of the infrastructure of a ship of the line in the process of being built as crew and technicans swarmed all over, the entire place seemingly to thrum with an inexplicable but undeniable energy of its own was a heady and captivating one. He wanted to savor the experience for everything that it was worth.  
**  
Meeting Elizabeth Weir 

He had primed himself to meet with a high-ranking Starfleet officer and had planned his responses accordingly but the woman with auburn hair neatly coiffed into a bun and the grey sleeves of her rolled-up grey jacket was a civilian.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. McKay, and on such short notice. I hope we didn’t take you away from anything too pressing,” the woman began, as she stood up and came around from her desk to shake his hand. 

“Not at all,” McKay managed to stammer return her warm, firm handshake.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the woman continued. “The name is Dr. Elizabeth Weir, please have a seat and we’ll get started.”

“I would first like to say that the project we’ve contacted you for is very exciting. It is one which combines the best of both worlds, in a sense it would pool the talents of many divisions within the both Starfleet and the peoples of the Federation.”

“How so?” asked Rodney his interest and his curiosity both at once piqued although he tried his best not to let it show on his face.  
Elizabeth smiled. “We’re calling it Project Atlantis. And it wills the first of what we’re enthusiastically hoping will be the first of many deep space stations.”

“Atlantis, huh,” Rodney grunted, adding, “A little on the grandiose side as far as names go. And for the record, I’m not really one for space stations because I’ve spent most of my life planet-side.”

“I understand,” Elizabeth replied. “Have you had a chance to go over the material we sent you?”

“Yes,” Rodney, may I ask who was responsible for the exterior design, the architecture isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen coming out of the Starfleet core of engineers.”  
“That’s part of the charm, if you’ll pardon the expression,” she continued. “Much of the station’s core infra-structure was already there.”

“How can that be? Logically, that doesn’t make any sense,” remarked McKay, “By that logic it would mean that S.E.C and the Federation would have had to reverse-engineered pre-existing technology. And that’s never been attempted in the Federation before, at least not to my knowledge.”

“Of course, once the shake-down part is over and we’ve had an opportunity to brief the crew, we’ll have a lot of work on our hands to make it serviceable.”

“Are you saying that the station was there before Starfleet got to it?”

Elizabeth answered: “In a sense yes, but nobody knows who built or why or why they abandoned it. And us none of our neighbors are contesting for owner-ship it was felt it was perfect opportunity to use it a first contact, launching-off point.”

“While I’m not exactly saying no to the offer, but it does sound intriguing, I just have to wonder if there might be a reason it was abandoned.” Rodney hedged.

“I understand your concern as a man with your reputation and as a man of science to take the cautious route; I want you to encourage you to take the plunge and make a leap of faith,” exclaimed Elizabeth leaning forward and clasping both of his hands in her own. “You won’t regret it!”

“Famous last words,” murmured Rodney under his breath and before he could harbor any second thoughts or think better of his decision, he gave Elizabeth Weir’s hands a gentle squeeze and said. “Okay, I’m in.”

Elizabeth Weir smiled and then threw her head back, letting go her grip on his hands. She pulled down the hem of her gray jacket and replied: “Glad to have you aboard, Mr. McKay.” And if I may be so bold, I have a feeling that you won’t regret your decision to join us.”

Rodney McKay snorted and tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice, “Famous last words, Dr. Weir. But I think I’m willing to give this mission the benefit of the doubt.”

“That’s all I ask,” she replied with a bright, cheery smile, as she stood up and shook hands with him.  
***  
Somewhere along the way Rodney had learned that he needed to reevaluate his pre-conceived notions about what to expect when embarking on the Atlantis mission.  
**  
The trip from Utopia Planita to the new station took longer than they had thought it would, but then again, he had never been a good judge of time, so might well have been mistaken. Rodney did not see much of Dr. Weir who had escorted him aboard and established him in the guest quarters and said that she had to some last minute administrative duties to attend to and that she would check in on him when they arrived. 

Rodney did not mind that much, he had been half-dreading from the way Weir had been going on about the station and its mission would involve a bunch of rigmarole and having to make face-time with Starfleet brass. One he didn’t care for mingling, or social functions, and two, he just felt wrung out and left to dry on a line, so he might as well get some rest, even if he’d unable to sleep.

He’d just finished the chapter on something called “naquada reactors’ which he’d never heard off when he felt a distinct difference in the thrum of the ship’s engines and a thump. He set the dossier he’d been reading on and off during the trip and stood up, trying to straighten the rumples in his suit jacket as best he could with his hands, wondering if she fix the rats-nest that his hair had become in the course of his past four restless nights.

Over the ship’s intercom he could hear the voice of the transport’s captain announcing to all the passengers that they’d arrived at Space Station Atlantis. His small guest quarters not at all in the way of affording an optimum view of the station that would now be his new home for the foreseeable future. 

Rodney completed cleaning up his appearance, and when that was done, ran out to the corridor, then to the turbo-lift, and from there to bridge not caring in the least if he discomfited any of the crew along the way in his head-long dash.

Weir was there when he got to the bridge and for her part, acknowledged his presence with a brief nod and a very small smile, and then turned to glance out the viewport.  
He turned to look out as well.

McKay’s first glimpse of Atlantis station was one he thought that he would never forget, that it was one that, hyperbole aside, would be forever etched upon his memory. Atlantis was from space was breath-taking, it had angular lines rising up in row upon row of narrow angular towers; the docking ports edged out from the main body of the station providing access and egress with a minimal amount of fuss. 

“Well, what do you think?” asked Elizabeth, and in the tone of the question it was almost as much a question as it was a challenge, as if she had already taken on the pride of ownership of the place and was daring him to find fault with it.

“It’s breath-taking,” McKay replied. 

“It is, indeed,” she replied.

 

If the exterior was unexpected the interior of the station was equally unexpected, but he’d gotten over his slack-jawed knee-jerk reaction and was now harboring more than a few questions about the why and wherefore of the station’s purpose. Oh he’d read up on it, he’d gone over the mission statement with Dr. Weir, but he still couldn’t put all of his proverbial ducks in a neat row. 

He and Dr. Weir carried their luggage and then passed through an access corridor that connected the docking area to the hull of the station allowing egress and ingress to the main body of the station and then through a corridor past an armed security escort. 

Rodney almost reflexively flinched when he felt that their gazes lingered on him overly long, but refused to complain about it; after all, it could have been just his over-active imagination playing tricks on him.

For her part, Elizabeth, who had spent a great deal of time in the academic circles of both the Federation and in Starfleet prior to landing the assignment as the civilian liaison to the Atlantis mission, herself could not prevent looking around in wonder. 

Up until now she had only been in on the planning and administrative phases, not to mention, a little recruitment, as in the case of securing Dr. Rodney McKay at Starfleet’s ship-building facility. But until now had the chance to actually lay eyes on the reality; and the reality was more, so much more than even she had dared to imagine it would be.

One of the officers of the military escort, a handsome tall, well-built, young man whose brown hair was cut in the regulation crew-cut caught her eye and gave her a saucy wink. Major John Sheppard had been with Starfleet a long time and while he’d been accustomed to serving aboard starships instead of stations, he’d discovered that he really didn’t mind the change of pace.  
Elizabeth was not at all sure what to make of it, but whatever she would have said to that was lost in the press of another passengers and their escort leading base the embarkation, security and through the station to the briefing room.  
***

 

Interlude 

The table was a horse-shoe with seats for more than just himself, Dr. Weir and the officer with the brown-crew-cut hair who had led the security detail when they’d arrived, joining him where three other people, a shorter man with a much more serious main than his immediate superior who Elizabeth greeted as Major Lorne, and three others.

“I’m certain that everyone would prefer to get situated after a long journey, but I’ll have to ask you to patient for a little while longer,” stated Elizabeth, taking a seat and inviting the others to do so as well.

“You’re the civilian liaison, Dr. Weir, isn’t it?” asked the taller officer.

“I am,” she replied.

“Ma’am,” he said. “Lieutenant John Sheppard, at your service, I figure we’d best get off on the right foot, figuring as we’ll be working together.”

“I reckon so,” she replied with a grin.

Gesturing with his thumb of his right hand Sheppard indicated the other officer present, saying as he did so, “This is my second-in-command, Commander Evan Lorne. Say hello, Lorne.”

“Hello,” Lorne dutifully replied. 

“He’s a bit shy around strangers but give him time, he’ll come around,” said Sheppard.

For his part Lorne blushed and furrowed his brow at his commanding officer but refused to be baited.

“And last but certainly not least, our Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Carson Beckket.”

“Top of the evening, to ye all,” rumbled Carson, and if his pronounced accent did not give away his country of origin the white and blue cross on his the shoulder of his uniform certainly would, and Rodney wondered if they’d all be issued a uniform with similar indicators. 

While this meandering thought crossed his mind Elizabeth Weir began.

“Allow me to introduce two new civilian members of our station, “ Elizabeth Weir was saying, “This is Specialist Ronon Dex and our consultant in first contact with neighboring alien cultures, Teyla Emmagan, oh, before I forget to mention this, she’s also in training to be our station counselor.”

Even as Rodney stared up at the man with the coffee-colored skin and the black dread locks which contrasted in a good way with the ankle-length camel trench coat, Rodney was thinking that there ought to be some kind of rule against anyone being that tall. For one thing it made he seem more intimidating and for another it was almost an affront to those whose stature was more vertically challenged.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, “said Teyla offering her hand.

“Uh, nice to meet you,” Rodney managed, shaking her hand hoping that this calm, dignified young woman did not notice just how cold and clammy his hand was when he shook her hand in return.

When he’d reclaimed his hand and stuffed his hands in a pocket of his jacket, Rodney asked her, “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?”

“I don’t mind at all,” Teyla replied. “I’m from one of the remote Federation colonies; my people are called the Athosians.”

“Never heard of them,” Rodney said with perhaps a little more asperity than he had intended.

Teyla seemingly didn’t seem to mind the perhaps unintentionally hostile tone in McKay’s voice because she shrugged and replied, ”I am not surprised that you have never heard of my people, Dr. McKay Up until now we have very much been a tribe of nomads; migrating from one world to another as our needs and numbers have warranted. It was only until now that we have settled on one particular world to call home.”

“Ronon here is a different story,” Elizabeth said.

“My world was on the fringes of the original Vulcan home-world, it was caught up in the gravitational shock-waves when that world was destroyed,” said Ronon Dex stoically.

“Did your world survive?” Sheppard asked, wondering if the question was too much of the prying nature.

“The planet survived, the inhabitants were forced to evacuate, not all the ships made it out,” replied Ronon as if that simple stoic statement summed up the totality of the tragic experience. 

When Teyla heard that her darkly beautiful mobile features seemed to glow with the shared feeling of compassion and sorrow for his loss, “You have my deepest sympathies for your loss. If there is anything I can do for you, Mr. Dex, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Oh, “Sheppard breathed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Ronon Dex gave a brief nod of his head in acknowledgment of the sentiment and subsided back into his chair.

“Now, that we’ve all had a chance to become acquainted, our first order of business is to get our ‘house’ in order, within four days Starfleet’s flagship will be arriving for a brief inspection and I want this place humming on full cylinders.”

“The flagship?” asked Sheppard, surprised.

“Yes, the Enterprise,” Weir replied. “I understand that the new captain is, shall we say, a little unorthodox himself, so, we might want to work that it into our plans.”

“What’s his name?” Teyla asked.

“Captain James T. Kirk?” replied Elizabeth.

“What’s the T stand for?” asked Sheppard.

“Tiberius, I believe,” Elizabeth replied.

“With a middle name like that I’d shorten it to an initial too,” chortled Sheppard.

“Now, Mr. Sheppard, be nice,” chided Elizabeth.

“I was being nice,” retorted Sheppard.

“Well,” huffed Elizabeth, “that’s all for today, you all can get settled in and we’ll reconvene here again at 0900 hours station time. Does anyone have anything to add?”

Seeing that none of the others seated at the table did, she stood up and wished everyone a good night and then left the briefing room.  
****  
Chapter: 2 Thursday’s Child 

A week later

To Weir’s way of thinking that she’d seen more than enough of the self-important, arrogant full-of-themselves starship captains to last a lifetime. After all, she was much more familiar with the type than she’d care to admit to anyone, even herself. Her grandfather had been a career officer and while she loved her grandfather and through him her father had gone on to a life in the diplomatic core, a life in the military was not for her. But experience had also taught her to identify the signs and be wary of them.

However, until now she had never encountered a specimen on the order of James T. Kirk. Oh, he was certainly young, and handsome and charming enough, but the way he was unconsciously flirting with her was nothing sort of what Elizabeth would classify as smarmy. Of course, as she greeted Kirk and his crew through the station, along with Sheppard in tow, she refused to let any of what she thought show on her face.

 

For his part, Sheppard had an entirely different attitude of the young captain, brash, arrogant, but he’d carried himself well and despite his years had managed to take the ship and its crew into several harrowing escapades and had still managed to come out more or less intact. It was a kind of reckless fly-by the seat of one’s proverbial slacks that appealed to the adventurous side of Commander John Sheppard.  
Science officer and second-in command of the Enterprise, Spock spent a majority of the tour not studying the people so much as the station and what he saw evinced the characteristic half-slanted eyebrow that he’d begun to cultivate. 

Uhura was paired with Teyla and Rodney McKay, flanked by Ronon Dex. She spent a great deal of the time asking questions tailored more along personnel and administrative lines than having anything to do with the station’s design; but phrased in such a way as to seem innocuous instead of probing. 

Neither Teyla nor Ronon seemed to take offense at the probing nature of the questions, and bore both questioner and questions with stoic resolve on Ronon’s part and bubbly good humor on Teyla’s part.

Rodney was more concerned with trying to get through the tour without having to take an active part more because he’d wanted to soak in everything he could, to touch, see, and feel the thrumming life of the station in more ways than just through his five senses. If pressed for an answer to why he felt this so strongly he did not think he could have come up with a ready answer, and the fact that he felt the beginnings of a tension headache make itself known was not helping matters much either. 

Sardonic and dryly humorous as ever Dr. Leonard Mc Coy begged off about mid-way through the tour and went off in search of the station’s infirmary, figuring he’d see what if any the project had made in the way of medical breakthroughs, and in any case, adding over his shoulder as he walked off, “I’m a doctor, damn it! Not a VIP!”  
Kirk had the good grace to shrug his wide shoulders and sigh. “Dr. Weir, may I call you Elizabeth? Elizabeth, you’ll have to forgive Bones his curmudgeon attitude, he’s really quite cuddly once you get to know him.”

“Mr. Kirk, “Elizabeth replied, feigning not to notice that Kirk had begun to use her first name, adding, “I shall have to take your word for that.”

“Well,” shrugged Kirk with an attempt at a self-deprecating smile that did not completely succeed in being one hundred percent convincing, adding,” My word is pretty good, even if I do say so myself.”

“If you’ll all get into the turbo-lift, “Sheppard interrupted, trying his best not to allow an amused grin from showing on his own face at the by-play, “we’ll head up Operations and conclude our tour.”

When the tour was about to wind down and they’d reached Operations, he’d managed to shuffle to the back of the line and leant up against one wall, rubbing his temples with the backs of his hands, and was about to try make himself scarce when he reflexively flinched when he could feel the dark eyes of Mister Spock intently looking as if the other man could ferret out every thought going through his head.

Rodney shook his head and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, offering the other man a wry smile, and shrugged. Thinking as he did so, ‘Don’t know what you find so fascinating about me, Mr. Spock, but stare at me all you what, it’s no skin off my nose. And if you think it’s going to faze, think again.’  
***

Interlude

Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott had begged off the main tour to go off to the reactors and science labs with Dr. Rodney McKay instead, making the convincing argument that he’d be better utilized among stuff he’d a yen for.

Montgomery Scott exclaimed, “Ah, laddie! You really ought to come with me and having the tour of the engines, I’d love getting my hands on those ample nacelles, if you’ll pardon the expression.”  
“I saw some at Utopia Planita before Dr. Weir offered me a position in the science department here at the new Atlantis base.”

“Ah Atlantis!” Montgomery Scott enthused. “I’d heard that it was very hush-hush, if ye know what I mean?” Scott’s seemingly unbridled enthusiasm seemed like it came second nature to him. 

As they toured the startling and stark design of the Atlantis base together it suddenly occurred to Rodney McKay that the other man’s enthusiasm had been held in check for too long and was only now demanding to be let loose and spill out to its heart’s content. 

Rodney didn’t blame the other man, hell, it was almost as if he’d found a, well, maybe not a friend, at least some he could talk to.  
It was too soon to begin cultivating friendships, but at least someone he had something in common with, for starters, a love of engineering, physics and spaceships. 

For his part, Montgomery Scott who had spent more time than he cared to admit marooned on a run-down, on the edge of absolutely nowhere fringe of Federation space for his unorthodox warp-drive theories, was happy to be back among civilization again, happy to be on space-ship doing what he loved to do, with the added bonus that he now had someone else who seemed to love engineering and physics just as much as he did.

Rodney shook his head. “No, I don’t actually. Would you care to elaborate?”

“I heard it from Captain Kirk and had it seconded by Mr. Spock. It’s like this, if you know what I mean? It’s nae that I don’t think Kirk is giving it to me straight all the time. He does have a tendency towards hyperbole,” Scott advised.

Rodney allowed himself a tight grin, “I’ve noticed. I think Sheppard does too, but he’s less obvious about it.”  
Scott grinned and continued, his Scottish burr even more pronounced than ever. “Sheppard? Oh, wait, that’s the military CEO of the Pegasus Mission, right?

I’m rather surprised that Starfleet brass signed off on a mission that combines both military and civilian together. It’s a bold move, and I applaud them for it.” 

“You don’t believe it will work?” asked Rodney.

“I honestly don’t know, although I do know it’s never been tried before,” Scott replied. “And I say that despite all that, knowing that are risks involved in any venture of this scope; I say I kinda envy you and your team, Mr. McKay.”

“You do?”

“Yes, but an assignment to the Enterprise is nothing to sneeze at either, ye know?” Scott grinned and gave his new friend a comradely smack on the shoulders. “We should go back up my quarters and have a celebratory nip of some whiskey that I’ve been saving for a special occasion. What do you say?”

“Yes, why not?” Rodney shrugged.  
**  
Interlude, having a discussion about his mixed heritage with Spock

“May I speak with you?” the voice was cultured, urbane and unassuming, yet at the same time it seemed to Rodney that it contained undertones of other atttrutibtes that he had no exact criteria upon which to make a determination for. 

All of that made him feel that the speaker deserved, no, expected an equally courteous response, so he dropped the Padd that he’d been working on and turned around. “I guess I could spare a moment, I mean, of course you may.”

“You are Rodney McKay, the newly appointed science officer on Space Station Atlantis, are you not?”

“I have that privilege, Sir. Rodney paused, not sure to whom he was speaking to, while he could readily recognize the blue uniform of and the rank pips on the shoulders of the Starfleet which meant both someone in the sciences and in the immediate command track aboard the Enterprise.

Rodney had not had the opportunity to meet everyone, except for the engineer Montgomery Scott and the ship’s doctor who had administered his required medical exam. 

The other man had almost olive-colored skin and black eyes set in a narrow high-boned face and black hair that was so black that it seemed to absorb the light from the over-head lights in the access-way.  
“You seem to have the advantage of me, Sir.”

“I am Commander Spock, second-in-command of the Enterprise. And do not be alarmed, I merely wish to speak to you regarding, shall we say, rather delicate matter that we seem to share in common.”

“I, what do you mean by that?” Rodney demanded defensively, unable to stop from flinching as if from a blow.

“Please do not be alarmed, I mean you no harm,” replied Spock evenly and quietly, “I seek not to cause you any trouble, but I took the liberty of looking into your service record, and it’s come to my attention that the very  
matter that we share in common is the thing you’ve spent years being kept in the dark about. True? Or am I mistaken?”

“You’re Vulcan,” Rodney managed to stammer, finally recognizing Commander Spock’s species.  
He’d heard very little about the tragic events that had caused the destruction of an entire world at the hands of the time and space hopping megalomaniac Romulan captain, Nero, and wondered if that was what Spock wanted to speak with him about it. If so, he’d be better off speaking with Counselor Teyla.

Even as the thought crossed his mind the realization if that tragedy was the reason that his father, had been so distant, so guarded whenever Rodney as both a young man and later on as a teenager had begun to ask questions about the mother he had never really known. Perhaps his Vulcan mother had been among the millions or even billions of native Vulcans who had perished when Vulcan had been destroyed.  
It had been a while since his half-Vulcan heritage had come up and at the moment he felt rather ambivalent about it even now. “Enough of this,” exclaimed Rodney, “Why can’t you just tell me flat out what you want to know?”

 

Spock sighed. “This is difficult, I am cognizant of that fact, but after a great deal of consideration I felt it was best to approach you and discuss it with you first.”

“Discuss what?”

“Your mixed heritage,” Spock replied. “I have known my entire life that my father chose to marry a human woman and for years I felt that it was a weakness or a rare lapse in logic on his part.”

“I guess from a Vulcan perspective I can understand why you felt that way. And now how do you feel about it. I mean, I get the distinct impression that things have changed.”

“Quite perceptive, but I till you this in order for you to begin the first steps in learning to you accept your own dual heritage,” Spock said.

“I don’t know, I honestly don’t know. I was just thinking about my mother, about how I really got to know her. My Dad kept the fact that she was Vulcan from me for years.”

“That was unfortunate, but it’s not too late to begin to explore it,” Spock encouraged.

McKay shrugged and then began to shuffle his feet, before the words came out in a torrent, and before he could think better about whether or not he might want to reconsider them. “I honestly don’t know if I want to. I thought that when I found out the truth that I would have to hide it.

“Why would you wish to hide one half of your true nature?” Spock asked genuinely intrigued. 

“How the hell should I know? Rodney exclaimed, rubbing his temples with the heels of his hands, adding quietly, “Or worse, because I’d get in trouble with Starfleet brass.”

“You do not have to make any hasty decisions, take your time, and we can speak some more until the Enterprise departs Atlantis, but if you have any further questions at a later date I would like to be able to assist in any way that I can,” Spock replied.

“Oh, yes, of course. I mean that would be fine,” murmured Rodney.  
***  
Communications officer Uhura rushed down the corridors and towards the bank of turbo-lifts and managed to squeeze her lanky frame through the rapidly closing doors in the instant before they closed and sidled up to Spock, saying breathlessly, “So how did it go?”

“Which subject are you referring to?” Spock replied.

“You know which one, so don’t play coy with me,” she said.

“If you are referring to the conversation that I had with Atlantis’s new science officer, one it went as well as can be expected, and two, it is a confidential matter, and one that I do not wish to have spread all over the ship.  
Uhura recoiled as she’d been scolded although Spock had not meant his words to sound harsh, just reproving. 

“It is difficult matter, Uhura, please understand and honor my wish for forbearance in this matter,” Spock said.  
Uhura pulled back a dangling tendril of jet black hair from her face and quickly regained her considerable composure, saying “Of course, I understand, really, I do, Spock. I was merely curious, but if I may ask one question?”

“You may,” replied Spock, 

“On which side is Vulcan blood?” she asked.

“The matriarchal side,” Spock replied.

Uhura nodded and considered: “So, it’s the opposite of yours. How long has he known?”

“That’s two questions,” Spock replied said wryly even as one soot-black eyebrow arced ever so subtly up at a determined slant, “ but very well, only within the past fortnight.”

“I should think there would be any number of advantages,” she stated. “But it’s different for you, isn’t it, Spock?”

“How so?” he asked.

Uhura did not reply right away, biting her full lower lip and twisting one tapered dusky small tapered finger around a trailing strand of her black hair, before saying: “Spock, you’ve dealt with the pros and cons of being half-human your entire life.”

“And the thought behind this is?” asked Spock curiously.

“It’s that you’ve never had it sprung on you suddenly like he has. Is there anything you can do to help?”

Spock sighed, then asked calmly, “May I ask why you’ve taken an interest in Dr. McKay?” 

She sighed and then paused as their turbo-lift reached their destination and then got out and onto the bridge, before she adjusted the fall of her black hair to make room for the stylized silver ear-piece she wore whenever she was on duty on the bridge’s communication’s station.  
She didn’t need it at the moment but it served as an excellent outlet for something to do with her hands; then added: “Because I do. He needs someone who understands, not the logical part, but, oh, hell if I can explain it any better than that right now, if you know what I mean?”

Spock nodded, “I believe I do.” 

Uhura leant forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t be a stranger. For the record, I may have come on too strong earlier. Granted I don’t know him very well, and we’ve barely met, but I still think he’ll need before this mission is all over.”

Spock did not react to the kiss mainly because he wasn’t sure if she expected him too, or if it was another phase of their developing relationship. From her expression and body language he was inclined to interpret the kiss as the kind a sibling might offer to another sibling as an expression of goodwill or something to that effect. So he simply asked, “How do you figure that?”

“I just have this feeling,” replied Uhura

Spock sagely nodded, “Indeed. “  
**  
Meanwhile in the infirmary Leonard “Bones” McCoy and Doctor Carson Beckett were bonding; well more like commiserating over their respective commanders/superiors penchant for reckless behavior and launching into sometimes ill-conceived endeavors that put the rest of the crew in danger. “Let me tell you about it,” McCoy drawled.

“Allow me to let you in on a little secret, well not so much secret nowadays, because I’m sure you can appreciate how something like this can quickly travel throughout the ship. “ McCoy paused and sighed. “But the fact is Kirk wasn’t even supposed to be on the Enterprise when it went up against Nero and his invasion force. “

“No,” exclaimed Carson Beckket. “I recall reading the pre-mission reports back in me day at Starfleet Academy, but I think I must have missed something along the way.”

“Not about the mission, not so much. It was only that we needed to fly under the radar of that pointy-eared first officer Spock, I had to employ my discretion as chief medical officer on the Enterprise and give Kirk all the apparent symptoms of Tholian flu.”

“McCoy! That’s just plain dastardly,” laughed Carson Beckket.

“I have to admit it is, just a little, but the point is our good Captain had a bit of an unexpected allergic reaction to the injection,” replied McCoy when he regained his own composure.

“What happened?” Carson asked.

McCoy smirked and said: “His hands swelled up until they looked like a pair of giant oven mitts.”

Carson leaned back in his metal chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Oh, my! I shouldn’t say this, especially as someone in the practice of medicine, but I would have loved to see the expression on his face.”

“All kidding aside, I mean, why Atlantis, Carson?” asked McCoy.

“I could tell that it was an opportunity of a life-time, or that it appeals to my sense of adventure, but those would be platitudes, no,” Carson paused and his brow furrowed as he sorted through his own reasons to accept the posting to the Atlantis base. “It’s not just because I wanted the chance to work in frontier medicine, or because it’s mission is something that’s never been done before; I should a little of both, if that doesnae sound completely insane.”

“No, not insane at all, my friend, not all,” Leonard McCoy said earnestly. “Not at all.”

*********************

 

Chapter 3 Your Young People Will See Visions 

Almost a week later, alarm klaxons sounded shrilled throughout the station, but instead of eliciting the kind of panicked response instead the new crew of Atlantis had spent the majority of that time going through emergency simulation drills in order to be able to anticipate just about any eventuality, recognized the alarm for what it was; a proximity alarm indicating the presence of potentially hostile vessel.

Along with Commander Sheppard, Commander Spock, and Lieutenant Spock, Elizabeth stood in the forefront of the recessed nerve center of the station facing down the glowering face of very angry and very belligerent Klingon male. Once she’d ordered the proximity alarms silenced her next order was to open hailing frequencies.

The kilngon was burly, and bearded and had a faded scar marring the left side of his face, but from what little she knew about the species was as a race of warriors a scar might just very well be a badge of honor as far as they were concerned.

She figured she’d try pleasantries first, because after all there really was no reason to expect matters to unravel so rapidly that both sides would open fire and risk casualties on both sides. 

“Welcome, gentlemen to space Station Atlantis, I am Dr. Elizabeth Weir, Liaison officer, what can I do for you?”

Sheppard was tugging at her elbow and Kirk was hovering behind her a grimace marring his handsome looks and from the few seconds she could spare from dealing with the Klingon captain it appeared that Lieutenant 

Spock was attempting to remonstrate with his commanding officer in muted tones. Elizabeth sighed and decided to leave them too it, she had enough to deal with and really didn’t need to have also deal with them as well.

“Doctor Weir!” growled Commander Praxis,” you must heed me for I seldom speak to humans and I most certainly waste my valuable time and breathe repeating myself for them!”  
Elizabeth smiled a charming, fixed smile that would not have been out of place on the proverbial cat that ate the canary and with as much vigor as she could put into it said: “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Did you not hear me the first time, female!” Praxis demanded vehemently. “Your presence in this sector is an affront to the Empire! The act of occupying this station means you are in violation of our sovereign territory and you have until the end of one solar cycle to leave the station or the consequences will be dire!” he concluded.

At that point Sheppard thrust himself into view and calmly added, “I am Commander John Sheppard, and you have the advantage of us, Commander Praxis. “ 

“If you would care to explain how it is that you come to claim this sector as part of the empire we’d be most grateful,” Weir added.

“By right of ceded territory,” answered Praxis, “Of course.”

“Oh, of course, that makes everything so much clearer,” purred Sheppard.

“I am pleased we understand one another, “replied Commander Praxis as if he’d completely missed the sarcasm of Sheppard’s remark.

“You understand that we are not cognizant of the ins and outs of Empire politics, what do you mean by ceded territory, Sir?” asked Elizabeth the frozen smile on her face made her cheeks and jaw ache and the longer she continued to maintain the more it began to resemble a grimace, but she refused to be baited. In guttural whisper he leaned over to one side and tapped one of his subordinates and muttered in his own language, “Females!”

“Then allow me to explain,” sighed Praxis, some of his bellicose attitude he had exhibited earlier muted, “It means that we won it through conquest and the defeated party ceded the area to the Empire.”

“Let me get this straight, “interrupted Captain James T. Kirk, ignoring Spock’s restraining hand on his shoulder. “You’re here now a long way’s from the heart of the Empire, if I’m not mistaken, and suddenly you care about some out-of-the way territory that nobody’s been using for,” he paused dramatically,” then threw up his hands and added, ”Oh, I don’t know, say at least a century, and just expect us to hand it over to you because you say so?”

“You have one solar cycle to comply, Tantras out!”

With that Commander Praxis slammed one meaty, burly hand onto a button on the control panel on the armrest of his chair, uttering something in his own language that no one understood, but its implied meaning was obvious; he’d gotten tired of talking 

“You heard him, we’ve got one day,” Sheppard looked around Operations. “Well, anyone have any brilliant ideas?”

“What do we know about Klingon vessels?” asked 

“Other than that they’re big, armed to the teeth, and have the ability to cloak, then no. How do they do that anyway? I’d dearly like to figure that one out,” Kirk stated.

“Our ship is still out there, we could send a message to Ensign Sulu and Mister Chekov and have them keep a wary eye on her friends,” stated Spock.

“That’s a good idea,” Sheppard remarked. “In the meantime we need to alert all hands to be ready for hostilities on their part.

“Also, we can’t yet rule out a diplomatic solution to the situation,” Weir stressed.

“You got any weapons in this place?” demanded Kirk.

“Just the standard stuff,” Sheppard replied, wondering as he did so if he was being entirely truthful. On the one hand it was true: the station was equipped with the standard issue Starfleet phaser banks, photon torpedoes and computer-guided drones. But in the course of the past week or so Sheppard with the aid Doctor Carson Beckett had stumbled upon something apparently sealed up and left behind by those who had abandoned Atlantis centuries ago.; a chair of perhaps alien design.

Sheppard was no expert on either alien architecture or interior design but he could learn to appreciate that other species could have their own ideas about aesthetics.  
It was only when Carson had stumbled upon something unexpected and rather startling, the chair, once activated by the user with the appropriate gene sequence, it could act as a kind of remote-control device, linking the user with the station’s weapons systems. 

It was a heady thought for Sheppard, seeing the advantages such a system could possess, but why he’d withheld that particular bit of information from Captain Kirk, Sheppard could have not expressed at the moment; no, not just now, he thought.

“You mentioned something earlier, Captain Kirk,” said Rodney, who until now had been the quietest member of the staff grouped around the conference table, “something that to the effect that you wished you know how they managed to cloak their vessels.

“What are you getting at, Rodney?” Weir asked.

“Well, it seems to me that we can’t cloak ourselves, or the ship out there, but we can use the one to serve the other.”

“Go on,” Sheppard encouraged.

“Well, ‘our friends,’ gave us one day, and they haven’t bothered to jam our transmissions signals, so we can still communicate with the rest of the Enterprise crew, or even send some of you back to act as a diversion.”

“That’s good thinking,” Kirk said, enthused, ignoring Sheppard’s scowl.

“I don’t think that they can fire while cloaked, nor do they seem aware that we’ve got a ship docked at the station. I think we can use that to our advantage,” Sheppard added.

“Would you care to risk everything on that kind of gamble, Mr. Sheppard,” Kirk fire back.

“Would you, Mister Kirk?” Sheppard fired back.

“So, what if, mind you, we could mask our live signs here on the station?” Rodney concluded mildly.

“That way they’ll think we’ve abandoned the station?” Spock stated.

“Yeah, I think it can be done. Of course I haven’t had the chance to run the computer simulations or crunch the numbers, but it could work; in theory that is,” Rodney replied.

“It could work,” Spock said. “Of course we would need to test it first, but I would happy to lend my services to those of your science team.”

“Of course, Mr. Spock, “Weir replied.

“Wait a minute! I’ll need Mr. Spock with me….” Kirk began and then trailed off when he caught the look in Spock’s eye and subsided back into his chair. Over the communication system Lieutenant Ford said, “Priority one incoming transmission for Doctor Elizabeth Weir.”

She sighed and stood up, answering the message, “Mister Ford, I’ll take the message in my office.”  
***  
Interlude

She’d seen his service record, followed his career in Starfleet not only because he’d been something of an inspiration for he classmates in school and later on when she’d gone on to graduate school. 

The first and celebrated captain of the Starfleet’s flag-ship, the Enterprise who had led that ship on its maiden voyage and gone up against a Romulan captain from the future with an axe to grind and technology and weaponry that was unlike anything that anyone in the Federation had ever seen, in his time-line anyway.  
Pike had been ‘invited’ to negotiate by the rogue Romulan leader, Nero aboard the Romulan vessel, under the impression that his counterpart would honor his agreement to find a diplomatic solution. 

 

Instead Christopher Pike had been captured and tortured, thus leading to his rescue by then cadet James T. Kirk and the crew of the Enterprise. 

In the end Kirk had made such an impression on Starfleet brass he’d been given the big chair on the Enterprise and Pike had been promoted to Admiral.

Weir figured that she might have been more impressed if she’d been working for Starfleet in more of the military branch and less so in their sciences and exploration division. All the same the blunt-spoken, strong-minded person that had lived through what he had and had come out of with all his faculties intact was still formidable. 

“Let’s not stand on ceremony, Doctor Weir,” Pike began. “I would ask to what I owe this meeting, but we both know that the circumstances don’t warrant it.”

“As you say, Sir,” replied Elizabeth, adding with some heat. “I don’t know how you found out about the current situation, but do you know how much validity there is to the Commander Praxis’ claim that they have sovereignty in this area?”

Even through the two-way video-feed Admiral Christopher Pike’s discomfort about having to answer that question was evident. Finally he shrugged, The Klingon Empire once laid claim to that sector when the Empire was bigger and much more aggressive or that it’s a small faction that sided with Khan in the last clash between the Federation and the Klingons.”

“And now?” she demanded.

“In prosaic terms, they don’t have a leg to stand on, if they force the issue, we’ll have no choice but to return in kind.”

“You’re not seriously advocating fighting with fire!” exclaimed Elizabeth perhaps more shocked than might have been, but all the same she wasn’t military so perhaps she had misunderstood his intentions.  
Pike hemmed and hawed, “No, Doctor Weir, not as such….” Pike began and then trailed off.

“Sir, the Enterprise is still docked here, a fact that they might not be aware of. And we’ve come up with a two-pronged system that has a lot of promise.”

“How so?” he asked. “And while you are nominally in command, I strongly suggest allowing Commander Sheppard to take the lead in any military decision,” he added.

Weir thought it came across more like a command than a suggestion but choose not to make an issue of it saying: “I can’t tell you the details, Sir, mainly because we’re still ironing them out….” She trailed off.

“Don’t tell me, then,” responded Pike. “You can never be certain that the opponent isn’t listening in on this conversation if they aren’t actively jamming the transmission,” interrupted Pike.

“But, Sir,” she exclaimed.

“The Enterprise is there, did you say? Use her and her crew, not that the station itself isn’t without its own defenses. I’d hate to lose Atlantis, good hunting to you and your crew Elizabeth, and good hunting, Pike out.”

“Damn it,” Elizabeth Weir griped. “Of all the cheeky bastards, he has some nerve to call and then just sign off like that. I guess that means we’re on our own.”  
**  
Fight scene

“What’s the word?” asked Sheppard cheerfully with an eager glint in his brown eyes.

“The word is that is that we’re to proceed as planned,” she replied.

“I’ve been in contact with our ship, unless anyone has any objection,” Kirk added darting a significant glance at John Sheppard although his words were addressed Doctor Weir.

“Do that,” Weir decided. 

Just then a thundering boom echoed through and around the station.

“I see they’re starting early,” Uhura dead-panned. 

“Maybe the days are shorter on their home-world than it is ours?” Teyla replied.

“Or maybe they decided not to wait the designated solar cycle after all,” Ronon remarked. “Either way I’m eager to see what this station can do.”

“Simmer down, Mr. Dex, we’ve barely begun to fight back,” Sheppard said with a wicked smile creasing his face. “You and your crew head back to the Enterprise, Mister Kirk; we’ll provide covering fire and back up your action.”

From his station at tactical Lieutenant Evan Lorne spoke up,” Ah, Ma’am shields are holding at eighty percent so far, but if the bombardment keeps up I’m not sure how long they will last.”

“Keep me posted, Mister Lorne,” Weir replied. “In the meantime try to get a lock on the Tantras and see if we can’t do so damage of our own.”  
***

 

Aboard the Enterprise Kirk leaned forward in the center seat tensed and eager to go, to do as a hunting dog on point with the scent of the prey in his nostrils, hands tensed on the arm-rests of his chair. It seemed that Commander Praxis and the Tantras weren’t at all concerned with hiding because they had begun bombarding the station with gravitational bombs that deflected off the shield. Nor did the Klingons seemed at all concerned with going after multiple targets on the station, seemingly content to concentrate their fire on one central point. 

“They would have had the tactical advantage in utilizing their cloaking technology, but Praxis appears to be eager to take the station quickly and by any means possible,” Spock noted, after a rapid but through reading of the display of data on his computer screen.

“Yes, I wonder why, too Mr. Spock,” Kirk replied.

“If that’s what they’re up to,” remarked Ensign Chekov, his accent more pronounced than ever from the pressure, they have to be aware this could start a war.”  
“Yes, Mr. Chekov, but we’ll worry about that later, “said Kirk cheerfully, perhaps more than the situation warranted, but nevertheless the wicked smile never left his face, “One crisis at a time; that’s my motto.”

Chekov exchanged a glance with Ensign Hikaru Sulu at helm; the other man sighed and shrugged and contained to watch coordinates on his own station. Chekov waited for instructions to return fire.  
He did not have to wait very long, Kirk barked out, “Fire, all main batteries, bring us around for another strike and execute attack pattern Delta!”

Their opening salvo was met by a return fire from the Tantric performed its own series of looping and darting evasive maneuvers, whilst taking pot-shots at the station. Its ability to cloak made it a difficult target for both the station’s and the Enterprise’s weapons systems to lock onto. 

Meanwhile the shields on the station continued to take a steady bombardment and Lorne rattled off the percentage of how much hull integrity continued to steadily drop. Sheppard paced impatiently, knowing that it was a catch-22; they couldn’t fire back while the shields were in place, and the Klingons’ couldn’t through either. He wondered if he could slip away unnoticed and get down to the chamber with the Chair and use that instead.

Commander Praxis was becoming increasingly frazzled, although being a Klingon that frustration was channeled into anger, and that anger in turn was directed towards anyone and anything that got in the way of accomplishing the task at hand. He pummeled his arm-rests; he hurled curses and orders at his crew, and generally was impossible to be around.  
In the back of his mind, Commander Praxis’ thought, “Atlantis is a tougher nut to crack than I had anticipated and they have shown more tenacity than I gave them credit for.’

“Sir, what are you orders?” asked his second-in-command.

Another bridge officer said, “Readings indicate that they bombardment is having less than favorable effects on the station’s energy force filed, and the cloaking field is failing. At this rate the cloak will fail in less than forty five minutes.”

“Leave off the bombardment, concentrate your fire on the Starfleet ship,” roared Praxis.  
****  
Aftermath/Conclusion  
Several hours later the bombardment dwindled and gradually before either side could quite understand how it had happened; it stopped altogether.

“What happened?” asked Carson bobbing up at John Sheppard’s shoulder all wide-eyed wonder and agitated energy.  
Sheppard nearly tripped over him, irritatingly shoving him, not ungently, out of the way. “We don’t have enough data to make that determination yet, Doctor.”

“Oh, well, I was just wondering,” Carson stammered before lapsing into a chair and humming to him, trying to stay out of the way.  
Sheppard allowed a small, satisfied smile to crease his mobile and expressive mouth, “Ford, open hailing frequencies and radio the Tantras, I want to have a little chat with Commander Praxis.”

Ford responded, “Hailing frequencies open, Sir.”  
On the screen Commander Praxis’ craggy, long-jawed face appeared. “What do you want, hu-man? Can’t you see that I’m busy destroying you?”

“Not from where I’m standing,” was Colonel John Sheppard’s sarcastic rejoinder. “What we have here is distinct failure to communicate. What you’ve failed to understand Commander Praxis, is that possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

At his side in sotto voice, Elizabeth Weir had gone over to Ford and in a low voice and out of the field of view of the screen, she instructed Ford to get in touch with Captain Kirk and his crew. She wanted to know their situation as well. 

“What do you mean by that?” Praxis demanded.

“It means, that we’re here, and we plan to remain here for the long haul, and I, speaking for my people and my crew, frankly don’t recognize Klingon authority in this sector. And since,” Shepaprd paused and glanced down at the readings on flashing at the various consoles in Operations, “You don’t have the power to make good on your earlier threat.”

“We can come back with more ships!” Commander Praxis threatened. 

“You can, but I don’t think you will, that leaves the ball in our court,” Sheppard stated.  
Praxis raised a meaty fist and shook it, “You may have won this skirmish….”

“But we haven’t won the war, “ interrupted Sheppard smoothly, “Yes, Yes, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, don’t think I haven’t heard it all before. “Honestly, Commander, is that really the path that you want to go down?”

Weir added, “Do you even have the authority to speak for the entirety of your people, Commander? Come now, let’s all be reasonable. It’s over. You take yourself and your ship away from this sector and we can just forget this unfortunate incident even happened.”

“Honor demands...” Praxis began to sputter, spittle wetting the salt and pepper strands of his goatee.

“Hang what your ‘honor’ demands,” Elizabeth finally snapped. “We’ve given you out; I strongly suggest you take it.”

The screen went black and the Tantric powered away from the station, it’s energy vapor trails streaming out from behind out like a reverse comet rollicking around a sun.  
Sheppard shrugged. “I guess that answers that question. “Any word from Enterprise?”

“They’re fine and are coming back to dock to effect minimal structural repairs. In effect the only damage they sustained was flesh wounds,” Ford replied. 

“Then once they get here, I guess it’s a cause for celebration, once we see to our own damages,” Sheppard said.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Weir smiled. She had known going into this situation that she had more or less been ordered by Admiral Pike to allow Commander Sheppard to take the lead in any military engagement; both because he had the training and the experience, and because it was more or less expected. But, she found, she hadn’t minded, even when he’d begun to needle their opponent, she’d even begun to ride the wave of the vibe he’d been putting out. 

When she’d done the recruiting she had put out every erg of her energy to exude confidence in the mission, the station and its crew, but privately had held more than a few doubts of her own. But even throughout this trial by fire, brief though it might have been, had proven that the station and its crew could take as good as they got, perhaps even better. Of course, she had to bear in mind that things could have been much worse than even she could imagine, but she’d take her wins where she could get them.

 

Over the station’s speaker Weir announced, “It’s over, ladies and gentlemen. I wish to commend everyone for a job well done.”  
McKay smiled, thinking,” So far, so good.’ And following almost immediately on the heels of ‘that’ particular he added aloud, “It could have always been worse.”

Sheppard chanced to look over at him and sauntered over to drape a comradely arm over his shoulder, “Come on, Man, buck up. That’s no kind of attitude to have. This station just went through its first test, and we came out of it with our head held high.”

“If you say so,” muttered Rodney.

Sheppard grinned, adding, “I do, and don’t make me turn that it on order, Doctor McKay.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Artwork for Journey Story - Irrigating In The Desert by Karrenia_Rune](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799521) by [danceswithgary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary)




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